Also because it's me MOAR HEARTS MARRIAGE FIC
ajdskhgsdfkj the people have spoken I guess XD I've discussed it before, it's tentatively titled 'haphazard prenuptial negotiation methods' and the impending followup to the Heart Pirates and Garp. fic. they still have Garp! they also now have to deal with the Big Mom Pirates! and Jean Bart is our lucky narrator this time around, who is also the one getting engaged. this is also the fic about my theory that Garp has Goodpasture Syndrome that he's only been aware of since post-timeskip but that's a whole other thing. i will share an extra long excerpt since there's so much interest; this is probably the thing I'm closest to finishing of all the WIPs.
Almost a decade trapped in slavery makes a man very good at watching for currents of power—who has it, who wants it, who’s just trying to keep their head down and survive exposure to it. Charlotte Katakuri, Sweet General, new captain of an Emperor’s fleet, is…interesting. He stands like a guard. Or one of the lower-ranked God’s Knights. A man with strength and power, prepared to attack and defend and even issue tactical orders, but constantly aware of his position at someone else’s command.
It’s interesting. Not hardly enough for Jean Bart to want to puzzle it out, with everything else he has to worry about, but interesting.
Pudding and Katakuri greet each other at first like respected colleagues, with stiff and careful distance between them. Then he kneels down to place himself closer to her level, and carefully rests one hand on her head.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he says, his voice only slightly muffled by the large cowl around his neck. Pudding trembles slightly, her fists clenched at her side before they relax and she steps forward to hug his knee.
There are a few other pirates waiting behind Katakuri or on the skiff, none of whom Pudding seems particularly eager to acknowledge. Katakuri ignores them, standing up again, looming over everyone except Jean Bart as he steps forward to interpose himself on Pudding’s behalf. Jean Bart crosses his arms, refusing to budge even as the movement tugs painfully on the bullets still embedded in his chest and arm, and is proud that the other members of his crew don’t shrink back at all.
Katakuri’s gaze sweeps over them, assessing. “You helped my sister?”
“They did,” Pudding says, clearly determined to keep speaking up on their behalf.
“She helped us,” Ikkaku says, her tone every bit as unimpressed as it ever is in a chat with mechanics trying to sweet talk or swindle her. “Good head on her shoulders. Damn fine cook. Better pistol shot than any we’ve got.” It’s true. Jean Bart’s specialties tend toward somewhat larger armaments. He can’t get a grip with the small pistols Pudding claims expertise in. “We’d take her on as a Heart Pirate any day.”
Katakuri’s eyes narrow. “Heart Pirates.”
“Under Captain Trafalgar Law.” Ikkaku’s tone narrows in response.
“I…see. Rumor has it your captain, crew, and ship were destroyed by Blackbeard.”
“Rumor exaggerates,” Jean Bart says, before Ikkaku can be baited by temper into saying anything unwise.
“I’m glad to hear it,” Katakuri says. “This has provided a useful opportunity, actually. I wanted to speak with your captain after he defeated my mother.”
“Katakuri!” Pudding protests, but the general doesn’t look back. This is the moment of truth, and the Heart Pirates shift, bracing for a fight.
“I want to offer your captain an alliance.”
That…was not the truth Jean Bart had been expecting this moment to yield.
Clearly none of his crew mates were expecting it either. There’s a blank, heavy silence as they all stare at him. And Jean Bart remembers, in a sharp flash, the arrival of the Fire Tank pirates on Zou, and the speculation of the Straw Hat passengers on the Tang’s trip to Wano as they all watched Luffy’s smoking vivre card, and he has a terrible premonition about what’s coming next.
Katakuri stares back, face unreadable behind the mask of his cowl. “Typically, our crew has sealed this kind of alliance through marriage.”
And Jean Bart already knew that, and was preparing for the worst, and as his crewmates are taking that in and processing it he’s thinking about other things. How Law cannot be allowed to make himself subordinate to anyone, not weak as he is, not after the loss of their ship. How he has, despite his temper and his unbending pride, made desperate choices to keep his crew safe.
How Big Mom and her empire have always been interested in giants—how Jean Bart is the most recent addition to the crew, and while he harbors no self-pitying delusions about being lesser, he also knows they will find a way to operate without him—how he is, of any crew member, the one who knows best how to endure the lonely and miserable and excruciating for years on end—
And because his crewmates are still processing the implications of Katakuri’s measured words, Jean Bart has an easy opening to step forward over Ikkaku and Maguro and give Katakuri a slow once-over.
“Well, if you’re offering, I guess you don’t look too bad.” He is quite attractive, in a punk kind of way, bright pink tattoos peeking out from under his open vest and spikes on his clothing. “Are you the type for a long engagement, or do you want this done quickly?”
“Jean Bart!” Ikkaku hisses, punching him in the back of the knee. Training with Garp the Fist has made her better at it, but it still barely registers. Jean Bart has a high tolerance for pain. More important right now is watching Katakuri react to the offer, with slow blinks and a slower spreading flush.
It’s a bit of a way to call his bluff. Surely the offer was intended to wed their captain to one of Katakuri’s subordinates. To become betrothed himself to another captain’s subordinate may be more than his own pride can bear.
Instead, Katakuri declares, “I suppose it depends on what your captain and I discuss in the marital contract negotiations.”
Well. So it wasn’t a bluff.
“We’ll take him back your offer,” Maguro says, loudly, and now he and Ikkaku are both yanking at Jean Bart’s jumpsuit, trying to get him to follow them. “Pudding is welcome to stay with us if she wants.”
“Yeah, if this pushy jerk gives you any problems we’ve still got a hammock, Ribbons,” Ikkaku tells her erstwhile cellmate. Pudding, peering around her large brother, gives them a smile that makes Jean Bart think her more accommodating personality has come to the fore.
“That’s sweet of you, but I’ll be okay!”
Jean Bart gives his—fiancé?—a final, firm nod before accommodating his crewmates with an about-face into the treeline.
“Jean Bart,” Ikkaku repeats, when they’re not quite far enough from the beach for his instincts to feel like they’ve escaped eavesdropping. “What the fuck?”
